


dream guy

by driftingskies237



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Jealous Arthur, Jealous Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining Merlin (Merlin), supportive Lancelot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23541073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driftingskies237/pseuds/driftingskies237
Summary: A night at the campfire leads to antics concerning crushes. Merlin, in an effort to hide his growing feelings toward Arthur, describes someone completely opposite Arthur. All seems to go back to normal, at least until the walking persona of Merlin's description comes to Camelot for the chance of becoming a knight.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), background Gwen/Lancelot
Comments: 43
Kudos: 1033





	dream guy

Laughter echoes from around the campfire. The sun has long set, but nobody has any intent to fall asleep quite yet. Merlin relishes nights like these; nights free of bandits, evil sorcerers, or something other disaster that Merlin has to solve. Nights like these are few and far between, but when they do come, Merlin appreciates them. He appreciates joking with the knights as if he’s one of them. Around the campfire, after all the chores for the day are finished, he can just relax.

“No way,” Percival shakes his head. “That is _not_ what happened!”

“As if you’d remember! You were as drunk as a skunk! As if you’d remember. Unlike you, I can hold my mead,” Gwaine retorts, puffing out his chest.

“I would never jump on a table and sing!”

“—And it broke, don’t forget the best part!”

Percival smirks, “But if this happened, then why didn’t the tavern workers make me pay my debts for the table?”

“Have you seen yourself?” Gwaine gestures with a wink. “Not only are you a stud, but you’re a big, intimidating stud. Plus, I think Mary has a crush on ya!”

At this, Arthur snorts, “Please, Mary has a crush on everyone. She even complimented Merlin of all people!”

“He’s just jealous because he thought Mary was complimenting him at first,” Merlin pipes up, earning a glare from Arthur as well as hearty laughs from the other knights.

“Ah, crushes are fickle things, my friends,” Gwaine grins, raising a flask he seemed to procure from thin air.

“I can attest to that,” Elyan agrees.

“Oh, do you have someone you fancy, Elyan?” Percival teases, punching his shoulder jokingly.

Elyan rolls his eyes, punching Percival back. “As a boy, I did. I thought she was the love of my life. But we just grew apart. What about you then, Percy?”

A deep blush spreads across Percival’s cheeks, shone only brighter by the light of the campfire. Everyone laughs. Gwaine and Leon push at him from either side, urging him to tell. He raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, fine. I might have a certain girl that I like…”

“Who is it, Perce?! Come on, you have to tell us now,” Gwaine begs, tugging his sleeve.

“No way!”

“At least describe her for us, mate!”

Percival gives in at that. “Okay fine! She has dark, thick hair that curls down to her shoulders. A soft smile. Deep brown eyes that you can get lost in. She’s funny, too, and shy.”

“It sounds to me like Percy is in love,” Lancelot grins. Percival blushes, but doesn’t deny it.

“How about the rest of you, then? Who do you like, Lance?”

“No one at the moment,” he says, honestly.

“Me either,” Leon admits. “My only lady is Camelot.”

“And what does _Camelot_ look like, Leon?” Elyan teases.

“I mean, I’m not at all picky. Though I do like a girl who is kind-hearted and loyal.”

“Boo! Boring,” Gwaine sighs. Merlin, who sits between Gwaine and Arthur, suddenly gets squished into Gwaine’s side, Gwaine’s arm wrapped possessively around his shoulder.

“I like serving girls,” Gwaine proclaims boisterously. “Who have dark, beautiful hair and sparkling eyes, and are clumsy—”

“Gwaine!” Merlin groans, attempting to get out of his tight grasp. All the knights are laughing and cat calling.

“Okay, okay,” Gwaine yields, finally letting Merlin go. When Merlin finally has use of his limbs back, his eyes immediately go to Arthur for some reason. Although Arthur is smiling along with everyone else, his posture is tense, and his smile is tight. Before Merlin can think about it anymore, though, Gwaine directs his attention back to Merlin.

“Well? Don’t keep us hanging!” Gwaine says.

Oh. Merlin is expected to take his turn. This is a problem. He risks a quick glance at Arthur again, knowing that the heat forming from his cheeks isn’t due to the fire. The thing is, Merlin does have a crush, an extremely inconvenient crush. He hates how Arthur’s smile sends butterflies swarming through his stomach, how when Arthur touches him his heart rate speeds up. Over time, Merlin has gotten used to it. After all, nothing would ever come of it. Arthur would never fall someone like him, even if Merlin was noble.

Across the campfire, Lancelot sends him an apologetic look. For some reason, Lancelot ended up knowing not one, but both of Merlin’s biggest secrets. Although Merlin appreciates someone to rant to, he also can’t stand the looks of pity that Lancelot sends him. It’s embarrassing, mostly; Merlin feels ridiculous for even having a crush on Arthur in the first place, let alone someone else knowing. Still, Lancelot raves about his crush on Gwen in return, convinced that she’ll never reciprocate his feelings because her and Arthur are in love. Merlin has a feeling that even though Arthur might be in love with Gwen, Gwen doesn’t return his feelings in anything but a platonic manner. She only has eyes for Lancelot these days. Despite the obvious yearning looks between Lancelot and Gwen, Merlin doesn’t mention anything because Lancelot always certainly denies the obvious. Plus, it just makes Merlin feel worse about his situation.

He can’t risk Arthur finding out. This secret is second only to his magic. There’s no doubt that if any of the knights find out, the truth will come out to Arthur eventually, too. Merlin has to steer them off any trail connecting his crush to Arthur.

“Dark hair and eyes,” Merlin says, picturing the opposite of Arthur. “Sensitive, reserved, and always open about their feelings.”

Gwaine slaps him on the back, “You’ll find her someday, Merlin. I can be your wingman!”

Merlin smiles half-heartedly, still thinking of the person he really likes. He looks over toward Arthur again, only to find him standing up, grumbling about getting more firewood. There’s already a pile big enough to last them the rest of the night.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just a spoilsport,” Gwaine groans. “Princess needs to unwind a bit sometimes.”

“That’s the King you’re speaking of,” Leon reminds him, although there’s no bite behind it.

“I know you all agree!”

The bickering between the knights continue. Merlin smiles and laughs when prompted, saying minimal words the rest of the time. Lancelot notices odd mood, but knows better than to confront Merlin at that moment.

It’s only much later that Arthur finally returns, arms full of wood (it’s the completely wrong kind to keep a fire going, but Merlin doesn’t dare mention that). By that point, the knights are finally calming down. After dumping the sticks near the fire, Arthur turns toward his men.

“I’ll take first watch,” Arthur volunteers stiffly. “Leon, you can take second. We’ll head back to Camelot straight away tomorrow morning.”

Arthur seems different than normal, more stoic. He seems uncomfortable, too, especially when Merlin heads over to his side. Merlin worries that Arthur somehow picked up on his bluff. What if Arthur suspects his crush and is disgusted by it? Merlin really hopes that isn’t the case; he can’t risk jeopardizing the odd friendship they’ve built over the years for one stupid little crush.

“Are you sure you want to take watch? I can do it while you get some rest,” Merlin offers hesitantly.

Arthur purses his lips, silent for a moment before finally responding. “No, Merlin. Just go to sleep.”

No joking or mocking, just a simple statement. Merlin screwed things up so bad. He can only hope that tomorrow will be better. As Arthur stalks off to lean against a tree, Lancelot approaches Merlin. He pats Merlin on the back a few times with a comforting smile.

“Are you okay?” Lancelot asks quietly, as not to alert the others.

Merlin nods slightly. “Yeah, ‘course.” He says this not only to reassure Lancelot but also himself. Who cares if Arthur’s acting grumpy about this all? He’s probably just still caught up with his crush on Gwen and in a bad mood from the long day. Merlin’s not worried at all that his secret has been revealed and Arthur hates him. Things are fine.

* * *

The next morning proceeds like any other. Arthur orders Merlin around like usual, bickering with him and tossing insults back and forth. And Merlin is relieved. Things seem to be normal once more, and Merlin can deal with normal.

“ _Mer_ -lin! Could you be any lazier?! At this rate, we won’t get back to Camelot until nightfall,” Arthur proclaims, waiting with arms crossed as Merlin finishes packing the saddlebags.

“So sorry, my pratness,” Merlin grins. Having a pack thrown at his chest in retaliation has never felt better.

On the journey home, Lancelot trots his horse up beside Merlin, urging them to the back of the pack. “You and Arthur seem normal this morning.”

“I guess he was just in a bad mood last night, after all,” Merlin replies.

“You’re okay with things being normal again?”

“Normal is better than Arthur hating me.”

Lancelot pulls a face. “Merlin, I really don’t think Arthur could ever hate you.”

Merlin doesn’t know what to respond with, but luckily, he’s saved by their approach into Camelot. Arthur, having noticed that his manservant isn’t beside him, calls out for Merlin with annoyance. Merlin offers Lance a small smile for his efforts as a good friend before catching up with the King.

The next fortnight goes by with miraculously no complications. Arthur is busy with his duties as King and ordering Merlin around to do his chores. After coming back from the latest hunt, Merlin decided he would not get hung up with his crush on Arthur. It went well, at first. Merlin pushed out any type of thoughts relating to Arthur’s annoyingly brilliant smile, stupid blue eyes, or joyous laugh. He didn’t feel the tingling sensations when Arthur touched his arm or patted his back. Merlin definitely hasn’t been admiring Arthur’s sleeping body in the morning before he wakes, so soft and relaxed, golden hair tousled along the pillow and skin gleaming under the crack of the sunlight from the curtains.

Damn it. Maybe this isn’t going to work as well as Merlin had hoped. In fact, it seems like Merlin just becomes more infatuated as the days go on!

Unbeknownst to him, there was a big change coming in the form of one Oliver Francis.

* * *

Recently, word of the Knights of the Roundtable has passed throughout the kingdom and beyond. For the last few months, more and more nobles and non-nobles alike have been traveling the distance to Camelot in order to train for a spot as one of Arthur’s prestigious knights. Many had trained and fought, and very few actually succeeded in becoming a full-fledged knight.

If you asked Merlin, he would say he has no clue what the big fuss about being a knight is. Of course, he believes in Camelot and Arthur and understands the attraction to the prospering kingdom. Never will Merlin understand, though, the fun of constantly sacrificing your life and hitting things with glorified sticks. Not to say he doesn’t appreciate the knights, but he can’t understand it. If Merlin had his choice, he wouldn’t have to use his magic in dangerous situations to constantly save Arthur’s backside. Merlin has no choice in the matter, though, destiny this, future of Albion that, but these prospective knights are willingly putting themselves in that spot. Merlin can’t believe it. And, naturally, Arthur disagrees.

“I don’t expect you to understand the extreme honor that comes with being a Knight of Camelot,” Arthur scoffs after Merlin’s tirade of the new bout of knight training today.

“I’m just saying that there are many other ways to serve Camelot than hitting things with sticks,” Merlin replies, handing Arthur his sword with a smirk.

“Like mucking out the stables?”

“Oh yes sire, mucking out the stables is truly one of the highest honors of Camelot. Perhaps you should have your new trainees do that, instead?”

Arthur laughs sharply. “Then who would protect Camelot? You, who can barely walk without stumbling over his own feet?”

Merlin goes to retort fruitlessly, but happens to trip over a chair leg in that very moment. His face reddens while Arthur grins cheekily. If only Arthur knew exactly how much Merlin does for him.

A knock sounds against Arthur’s chamber doors. “Sire, the trainees are about to arrive,” Leon calls from the other side of the door.

“Yeah, better finish up whatever you and Merlin and doing in there, Princess!” Gwaine says, before muttering “ouch”, probably from getting smacked from one of the other knights.

“I’ll meet you down there right away,” Arthur responds, sending a pointed look at Merlin. Arthur’s cheeks are dusted pink, but Merlin thinks nothing of it.

True to Arthur’s word, they make their way down to the training field a few moments later. The sun burns down hot, causing Merlin to start sweating as soon as he steps outside. He wonders how the practiced knights survive with their heavy chainmail in this kind of heat, let alone a bunch of trainees vying for a spot.

The potential newcomers are already lined up and ready to go in sets of chainmail, swords clutched in their grips. There’s only three of them this time, and as Merlin listens to them speak to Arthur, he ascertains that two of them are of noble blood, while the other was born a peasant. Although Merlin is trained in the art of sword fighting like the King, he’s picked up a few things from watching Arthur train his knights all of these years. He knows enough to tell that they all have potential. Borden, a tall, thick noble, is talented at defense, but not so much at offensive moves. The other noble who goes by Gavin is quick and light on his feet, but his strength leaves much to be desired. Lastly, there’s Oliver. His fighting styles are a bit unconventional, but he knows his stuff. He’s smart in his movements, too, as if every one has an exact purpose to them.

During a quick break from the sweltering heat, the trainees huddle under the shade of the tent and grab a cup of water from Merlin. Oliver is last in line, smiling politely up at Merlin.

“I can’t believe I’m in Camelot,” Oliver says with awe, one hand ruffling through his dark hair. “It seems unreal that I have the chance to be an actual knight.”

Merlin only realizes that Oliver is talking to him after looking around and seeing no one else near them. He then replies, “Camelot is great in many ways. I’m sure that you’ll enjoy your time here.”

“What’s your name, then?”

“Merlin,” he answers. “King Arthur’s manservant.”

“Nice to meet you. How is it working for the King?”

Merlin hums. For some reason, he feels like he shouldn’t be afraid to tell Oliver his real thoughts on the King. After all, Oliver isn’t a noble born. “He’s a prat.”

Oliver gapes for a moment before giggling. Merlin soon joins in, happy that he has a new potential friend. Arthur, having heard them from across the training grounds, eyes them suspiciously before stomping over. His blond hair is stuck to his head with sweat, yet he appears as energetic as ever.

“Please feel free to ignore Merlin,” Arthur says. “He’s an idiot.”

“It’s no problem at all, your highness,” Oliver responds. “Merlin’s company is much enjoyable.”

Arthur narrows his eyes as he inspects Oliver and Merlin. “If you’re certain. But I do have use of my manservant, Oliver, so if you’ll excuse me.”

With that, Arthur yanks at Merlin’s wrist, tugging him to the opposite end of the large tent. Merlin mouths an apology to Oliver before letting himself be pulled along.

“What was that about, clotpole?” Merlin asks.

“I can’t have you distracting my potential knights,” Arthur mutters, wiping his face with a towel. “Besides, I need a fresh towel.” He then throws his dirty towel at Merlin’s chest, making Merlin groan with disgust.

Arthur is about to head back to the training field, but before he does, he stops at Merlin’s side. He reaches up and, with a gentleness Merlin not thought possible, brushes the sweat laced hair strands of his eyes. Merlin’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, relishing in the soft touch. Then, as soon as it comes, it’s gone. Arthur brings his hand away, then says, “Get yourself some water, Merlin. I can’t have you fainting like a girl from dehydration.”

* * *

Things only continue to get stranger from there. As Arthur continues seeing if these potential knights have what it takes, Merlin notices that Arthur has started acting different than usual. Not only has Arthur been more aloof, but he’s also been especially hard on one of the trainees in particular: Oliver. At first, it wasn’t noticeable; the quick glares, the little bit harder he was ragged on after practice, but then it became apparent. Arthur seemed to only have eyes for making Oliver break under him. Of course, Arthur has never been cruel, but his distaste for Oliver is obvious to everyone, including Oliver himself.

About a week after coming to Camelot, Oliver finds Merlin in the castle halls carrying a large load of Arthur’s laundry to be washed.

“It’s good to see you,” Oliver greets, piling pieces of clothing that have fallen back onto the top of the wobbling basket.

Merlin smiles, “You too, Oliver. Is there something you need?” He guides the basket to the ground, needing a break before his back gives out, anyway.

Oliver sighs, “I suppose I was wondering…well, since you’re so close to King Arthur and all…do you think I have done something to offend him?”

“I have no reason to think that you offended him,” Merlin offers. “Nor do any of the others. We all enjoy your company and skills. Arthur can be difficult, sometimes, but I’m sure that he will get to know you better soon, and you two will become closer.”

Relieved, Oliver clasps a hand around Merlin’s shoulder, mirroring the position that Arthur has held with Merlin many times before. Of course, at that moment, Arthur himself comes rounding the corner to head toward his chambers.

“MERLIN!” Arthur shouts, voice echoing through the walls of the castle. Merlin turns to see Arthur standing just a few foot lengths away, glaring at the pair of them.

“You didn’t have to yell, prat, I’m right here,” Merlin complains. Arthur moves closer toward him, and Merlin prepares himself to be berated or get something thrown at him. Instead, he feels Arthur’s arm wrap around the very spot that Oliver’s was seconds ago, squeezing his shoulder tightly.

“Hello, sire,” Oliver says.

“Oliver,” Arthur acknowledges, nose up. “If you would spend more time training and less time fraternizing with my servant, then maybe you’d have a better chance of becoming a knight.”

Merlin feels just as stunned as Oliver appears. Merlin has never heard Arthur speak so brashly before, and to a knight in training nonetheless. Oliver casts his gaze downward respectfully, hands clasped in front of him like a servant. Suddenly, Merlin has a feeling he knows why Arthur dislikes Oliver so much, and he won’t stand for it.

Arthur leads Merlin back the short distance to Arthur’s chambers, not bothering to respond toward Merlin’s complaints about his laundry still being in the hallway. When they finally arrive, doors closing behind them, Merlin pulls himself away from Arthur’s arm, glaring at him.

“Okay, enough is enough. You’ve been a right prat toward Oliver ever since he arrived, and I know why.”

At this, Arthur pales considerably. “Y-you do?”

“Come on, Arthur, you really thought I wouldn’t figure it out?!”

Arthur purses his lips, feet shuffling. “Merlin—”

“How could you?”

“What do you mean _how could I_? I can’t help it!” Arthur protests, running his hand through his hair.

“That’s just an excuse, and a terrible one at that!”

“Is it really so wrong?”

Merlin gapes at him. “Yes! I-I though you were a better man than this, Arthur.”

“I—” words die in Arthur’s throat. He almost appears distraught, and Merlin has a sudden urge to comfort him. But Arthur needs to understand that what he did to Oliver was wrong.

“I thought we were friends!” Merlin continues to rant, beginning to pace back and forth. “I thought that after you knighted people like Lancelot who weren’t of noble blood, that you would have no bias toward someone from a non-royal background trying to become a knight, but obviously I was wrong! You’ve been treating Oliver terribly, and just because he’s not nobility.”

 _“What?_ ” Arthur gasps, peeling off into laughter.

“This isn’t funny,” Merlin says as he grows angrier.

Arthur continues laughing, and Merlin can’t take it anymore. He turns to stomp out of the room. Before he can leave, though, a hand takes his wrist. Arthur’s laughter finally dies down as he wipes at his eyes.

“You’re so dense, Merlin.”

“Me, dense?!”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Yes, you. I couldn’t care less about Oliver or anybody else’s background. They all deserve an equal chance to become knights.”

Merlin eyebrows scrunch up in confusion. “B-but, then why are you being so rude toward him?”

“God, Merlin, it’s because he’s your dream guy!”

Now, Merlin’s even more confused. “My dream guy?!”

“Yes,” Arthur nods seriously. “That knight in the forest a few weeks back, when we were all talking about our…ahem, crushes, and the type of person that you said you are into is Oliver to a tee.”

Arthur remembers that. Arthur remembers his description. Arthur is talking to him about crushes. Could this day get any worse?

“What does that have to do with any of this?” Merlin wonders, still not getting it.

Arthur groans in frustration, tugging on his hair so hard that Merlin worries he’ll yank it out. He then takes a few deep breaths to calm him down. “None of you ever asked me who my ideal date would be.”

“Wait a minute…” Merlin trails off, “Do you have a crush on Oliver?!”

“What, no!” Arthur groans again. “No, you daft idiot! I have a crush on _you!_ ”

Silence falls over the room. Merlin stares at Arthur, as if he’ll wake up from this dream any second. He stammers for words, but nothing comes out of his mouth. Over and over he replays Arthur’s words in his mind. _I have a crush on you. I have a crush on you._

Arthur likes me.

“Y-you…you like me?” Merlin gasps. “How can you like me?”

“I wish I knew,” Arthur mutters, “But somehow you’ve managed to get under my skin like no one else. I…I was, a bit unfair—”

“— _terribly rude_ —”

“—Okay, fine, I was rude to Oliver! But I couldn’t help it, Merlin. Every time I saw you two together, laughing and smiling and touching, it made a fire rage in my stomach. I couldn’t stand him looking at you like that.”

“Arthur…” Merlin says, stepping closer to him.

Arthur clears his throat, stepping backward. “But it’s nothing, it’s fine. I mean, I know you must have a crush on Oliver, as he’s exactly the person you described.”

“Now you’re the one being an idiot,” Merlin smiles, stepping toward him once more. This time, Arthur makes no move away. “I’ve been ridiculously in love with you for the longest time, Arthur.”

Arthur’s mouth drops. “But Oliver…”

Merlin blushes profusely. “Well, actually, he’s not really my type. I may have lied a bit at the campfire to conceal my true feelings. The type of person I want to date is actually much different.”

Arthur takes a step closer. “Oh?”

“The type of person I like is kind of a big prat,” Merlin continues. “A big prat with a heart of gold. Who’s brave, caring, and fights for justice. A person who infuriates me daily with his snide remarks but surprises me with his kindness.”

They’re so close now that Merlin can feel Arthurs breath mingling with his own. Merlin’s heart is beating out of his chest, waiting for Arthur to say something, anything. Finally, Arthur is opening his mouth to speak….

“Is it Gwaine?”

Merlin groans in frustration. “You have got to be—”

“I’m _joking_ ,” Arthur promises, reaching forward you cup his cheek. “Dollophead.”

“That’s my w—mmph!” Merlin starts, only to be cut off by the sweet press of Arthur’s chapped lips against his own. It tastes like sweat and is filled with desperation. Merlin clumsily fists his hands in Arthur’s shirt, bringing him as close as possible. He’s wanted this for so long that it doesn’t quite feel real.

They only pull apart when they absolutely have to, both panting for air. Even then, Merlin doesn’t let go of Arthur’s shirt. Meanwhile, Arthur’s hand traces it’s way down the side of Merlin’s face, a gentle caress. They drop their foreheads together, unable to hide their matching smiles.

“You’ll be nicer to Oliver now?” Merlin whispers.

Arthur chuckles as he strokes Merlin’s cheek. “I suppose. I do have him to thank for getting us to come to our senses, after all.”

“You mean for you to come to your senses.”

“Do you want to be sent to the stocks?”

“Mmh, you wouldn’t. You’d miss me to much,” Merlin hums, leaning to press a chaste kiss against Arthur’s lips.

Arthur hauls him back in.

“In your dreams.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed!! :) I know I didn't include Mordred, but he's not my favorite character to write, and I thought it fit a bit better without him. Thank you so much for reading!!!


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